


Wouldn't You Love to Love Her

by skillzyo



Category: American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, I miss these two, Second person POV, character exploration, finale rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8830018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skillzyo/pseuds/skillzyo
Summary: Misty Day smells like the earth and has a voice that sounds a lot like music to Cordelia's ears. And as the weeks go by, she finds herself drawn to that smell and that voice, even as the coven is falling apart. --Follows Cordelia's perspective from 'A Sacred Taking' up to 'The Seven Wonders.' Gives an alternate ending than the finale.--





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing you notice when Zoe introduces you to her friend—a witch in need of protection—is the smell. She smells like wet earth. Like the air after a heavy rainstorm, when all the worms rise from the dirt, exposing themselves to the birds that prey on them and other creatures who would crush them underfoot. She smells like your greenhouse and all the life within it.

When you take her hand, the first thing you feel is the layer of dirt clinging to her skin. You imagine it lodged beneath her fingernails and wonder where Zoe could have found someone with hands like these, so rough with callouses and grime.

Then the visions take hold and the pleasant aroma from before is overpowered by the pungent smell of gasoline and cinders. You feel the ropes cut into your wrists like you are the one bound to the stake. The fear stabbing through your chest feels as real as the flames licking at your legs, crawling up your body, devouring your skin like hungry locusts stripping leaves from trees until nothing is left. You gasp as your body stitches itself back together. By the time you break free from the earth's grasp, you know exactly who this young witch is.

"You're Misty Day. Set on fire and left for dead," you say. You're acutely aware of her hands still on yours as you say, "Whatever troubles you had, they are ours now." She breathes a sigh of relief even before you add, "You are under the protection of this coven. This is your house."

When she leans forward and invades your personal space, you can feel her breath on your face. She asks if her friend can stay, too. As the smell of damp green grass permeates your senses, you can't help but think you would permit her any request she might make.

* * *

You quickly discover that she wants to learn. More specifically, she wants to learn _from you_. You can see her now, thanks to a newly-resurrected Myrtle's ministrations. You may not want to know where the older woman acquired the mismatched eyes, but you do know you're grateful, even if you hadn't needed eyes to know that Misty is beautiful.

Beautiful and eager and filled with wonder.

You spend several nights together in your greenhouse, teaching each other about different plants and their properties. While you are nearly an expert in alchemy, Misty's expertise is set specifically in the plants from the swamp, and she teaches you that there is always more to learn. She may not know their names, but the way she explains what the plants do with a Cajun twang to her voice is melodic. You start to think you enjoy learning from her almost as much as she enjoys learning from you.

* * *

She doesn't like Hank. She's never met him, yet when you open up to her while tending the plants one evening, you can almost feel the anger rolling off her in waves. She doesn't voice her distaste. She only grits her teeth and focuses her ministrations on the plant in her care. You can tell she's distracted though, because she keeps fiddling with the same leaf.

Minutes of silence pass as you both tend your plants. Then her hand is on yours, stilling its movements. The anger is gone from Misty's face and the softness has returned to her eyes.

There isn't a trace of pity in her voice or expression when she says, "He's a damn fool, Miss Cordelia."

It's the first time you've heard someone call him a fool instead of you. Fiona has no quarrels when it comes to calling you an idiot for marrying him and Auntie Myrtle just looks at you with pity in her eyes. After all, poor Cordelia just wanted to believe someone could love her. Misty is different. She doesn't blame you for your failed marriage and she doesn't pity you for it either.

* * *

Her dislike of Hank is almost palpable the night he shows up in your greenhouse. Your safe haven. She's drawn by the angry voices as he tries to get you to take him back. With her by your side, you can remember her words: He's a fool. You, however, are not. Not anymore anyway. Her presence gives you the strength to tell him about the divorce papers.

About the box of his shit packed away upstairs.

About how how done you are with his excuses and his lies

After he leaves the greenhouse, an ugly scowl on his face, the strength leaves your body in a rush and you start to sag. But Misty is there and she places a comforting hand on the small of your back. You aren't positive, but you think you feel some of her strength flow into you. Warmth from her hand travels up your spine.

You can stand tall again with her at your side.

* * *

Misty is missing.

You should probably be more upset over the fact that you've just learned your husband—almost ex-husband—is dead, but you can't bring yourself to pretend like you care. He lied to you, cheated on you, and used you to get to the girls you had sworn to protect. He had been dead to you long before he actually died.

Misty, however, is a different story. She has been nothing but kind since the day she got here. She enjoys your company and without hers, you feel like there's a hole in your chest.

Madison suggests that she returned to the swamp, but deep down you know the truth. You know something is wrong. Misty wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. She wouldn't leave _you_. And with all the trouble brewing with the witch hunters, it's possible she could get hurt, wherever she might be.

You promised her protection, but how can you protect her if you don't know where she is?

You browse her room, looking for any hints as to where she may have gone. You trail your fingers along her dresser, hoping it will trigger your second-sight. Your fingernails scrape the wood as you apply more pressure, as if the harder you press, the more likely it will be that you will get a vision. You bury your hands into the drawer filled with her shawls and close your eyes. Nothing.

You draw your mouth into a thin line. You know what you have to do.

* * *

The shears are heavy in your hands. It seems fitting to do it in the greenhouse. It's where the two of you spent most of your time together. You inhale as you stare down at the sharp, steely point and make peace with your decision. Bile builds at the back of your throat at the thought of what you're about to do, but you swallow it down. One more deep breath, and then you're screaming as the shears pierce one eye then the other.

* * *

The recovery period is filled with images of Misty dancing through your head. Memories of moments when you wanted to reach out and run your fingers through her hair. Moments when you wanted to stand on your toes and press your lips against her temple. Moments when you wanted to curl up in bed with her arms wrapped around you, holding you the way you've always wanted to be held while the smell of damp earth engulfs you both.

They're false images. False visions of the things you wanted from her but never had the strength to ask for. Too many years of rejection had made you too afraid to ask for her affection. And now it might be too late since your Sight has not returned.

You mutilated yourself for nothing.

Dread pools in your gut as you pace through the house after your failed attempt at Seeing through Madison. Your eyes ache, but it's nothing compared to the stabbing pain in your chest.

You've failed her.

* * *

In a strange twist of fate, it's Fiona's help that returns your sight. Not that she would willingly help you, but in the middle of an almost surreal moment of bonding, she gives you a necklace that acts as a booster for your powers. It takes all of your willpower not to let on that you've seen the future through her skin. The future she has planned for you all. Despite the horrific images that flash through your head, you take comfort in the fact that Misty is in it, even if she is dead.

If she's dead in that vision, it means she's alive now. In a strange way, it gives you comfort. It gives you the strength to find her.

You rifle through her things again. You bury your nose in one of her shawls since they have the strongest connection to her. You breathe deep and revel in the earthy smell you've come to associate with Misty. The sound of soft singing rings in your ears. Stevie Nicks. You pull the shawl closer and squeeze your eyes shut tight, trying to stop your tears from falling.

"I hear you," you whisper. "Now show me where you are."

The walls squeeze in on you. Darkness becomes a thick blanket that covers you completely. Your lungs ache with each breath. You gasp for air and put a hand on the dresser to steady yourself after you pull yourself out of the vision.

You know where she is.

* * *

It's Queenie who helps you find her. You'll be forever indebted to her, even if she had been reluctant to help you at first. You know she doesn't respect you, and maybe begging her for help hadn't raised her opinion of you at all, but you don't care. She brought back your Misty. She saved her.

You can't stop the tears that pool in your eyes as you kneel next to the coffin and wrap your arms around the young witch. While she regains her lost breath and bearings, you press yourself against her side, trying to get as close as you can; trying to feel every inch of her to make sure she's really with you again. You whisper soft words of reassurance in her ear then press your lips against her cheek, getting glimpses of her time trapped in the coffin with each kiss. The fear you feel rolling off her only makes you hold her tighter.

The rise and fall of her chest is reassuring. She's alive. She's with you.

* * *

After the confrontation with Madison and then The Axeman, the decision is made to put on a contest to determine the new Supreme. You have no doubts that Misty will win, but the younger witch is of a different mind. She paces your room the night before. Her footsteps are quick, but light as always. You understand her fear. Even for the most powerful witches, the test of the Seven Wonders is not an easy one.

"Misty, please sit down," you say, patting the spot on the bed beside you. Silence, then the sound of her footsteps as she approaches the bed. The mattress sinks beneath her weight when she sits. You reach your gloved hand towards her and let it hover above what you think is her lap. Soon, her hand is in yours and you rub your thumb over the back of her hand. "Misty Day, you are the most powerful witch I know."

She scoffs. "I know you think that, but I ain't cut out for this Supreme business, Miss Cordelia," she says in response. "I can't do the things those other girls can. I never started no fire with my mind before and I never made a damn thing come to me." She sighs and rests her head on your shoulder. "I'm just a girl who brings things back from the dead."

You chuckle and press your lips against her temple. A wave of Misty's anxiety rolls over your body and makes you tense for a moment before you pull away. "You say that like cheating death is an easy task."

She huffs and says, "I can do the hardest damned Wonder or whatever, but can't even move a damn pencil without usin' my hands."

"Misty, look at me."

You feel her shift and, even though you can't see her, you can feel her gaze on your damaged face. You push back the thoughts of your mutilated eyes and press your gloved hand against her cheek. She leans into the touch and you give her a soft smile.

"If you are the Supreme, you can't fight it," you tell her. "I know you're scared—anyone with common sense would be—but you have what it takes. You have the power to make this coven great again."

You lean in close enough to feel her warm breath on your lips. You want to give her strength the way she gives you strength just by being near. Her head nods against your palm and you gently press your lips against hers.

You only have a moment to enjoy the kiss before the vision hits you. You had been expecting it of course, but you hadn't expected the intensity of the images and the feelings. You expected to see Misty thriving as the Supreme so you could reassure her.

Instead, you get a vision of a scalpel in your hands, cutting into the soft, rubbery skin of a living frog. The sound of its heartbeat pounds in your head. The blood pours over your fingers and you can't stop screaming as the vision repeats itself over and over again. It doesn't end until Misty breaks the kiss.

Her hands cradle your face and the fear she felt while you had your vision ebbs into you through the skin-to-skin contact, adding to the terror from your premonition. You bat the hands away to make it stop. Several seconds pass as your chest heaves. As you try to make sense of the vision you just had. When it finally clicks, you whimper and bury your face against her shoulder, making sure not to touch any exposed skin for fear of triggering another vision. She whispers soft words in your ear in that melodic voice of hers and rubs her hand over your back, but you still can't stop thinking about what you had learned.

If Misty participates in the Seven Wonders, her only future is her own personal hell.


	2. Chapter 2

Misty doesn't participate.

Myrtle insists that she has to, but you point out that you've Seen her death. She obviously is not the Supreme and you will _not_ be risking her life to prove your Sight wrong, especially not for a position Misty does not want. It's the first time you've put your foot down since you can remember and you're not sure who is more surprised, you or the rest of the coven.

Misty's hand takes yours and the contact calms your nerves. Myrtle clears her throat and insists the rest of the girls take their places at the table. You hear her knock over one of the candlesticks that you assume was supposed to be Misty's and it clatters against the wooden table.

And Myrtle calls you the melodramatic one.

The trials go well up until the point when the girls stop taking their powers seriously and Zoe ends up impaled on the gates. Myrtle concludes that it's a blessing she didn't transmutate inside one of the other girls. That would have been an awful mess to clean.

When Queenie fails to resurrect Zoe, Madison refuses to even attempt bringing her back and revives a dead fly instead. With the competition out of the way, she's already assuming the title of Supreme. As much as you want to be optimistic, you can already see the coven crumbling under her rule. So when Myrtle approaches you and Misty, insisting that you participate—that _you_ could be the next Supreme—you're torn. She seems to believe you've been suppressed, first by Fiona and then by your own insecurities.

"Miss Cordelia," Misty says from beside you. "I think you should try."

"I'm not… I don't have the power to be the Supreme."

"That's bullshit," she says. The air shifts and when she speaks again, she's directly in front of you. "You've got those visions of yours and you know each and every one of those cantation things you taught us," she points out. "You know 'em, Miss Cordelia, you're just too scared to try 'em," she says before she takes your gloved hands in hers. "And I'm tellin' you now that you don't have to be afraid anymore 'cause you're not alone anymore."

She squeezes your hands in support, as if to emphasize her point that you're not alone. However, Myrtle Snow is like a mother to you and, as parents are apt to do to their children, she interrupts the moment between you and your sweet Cajun witch.

"It's always a blessing to see young love blossoming under this roof, but I do feel the need to remind you both that there is a miniature Fiona in the sitting room waiting to crown herself as queen," she says. "A decision would be nice, Delia dear."

You sigh and resist the urge to rest your head on Misty's shoulder. You need to rely on your own strength now.

"I'll do the Seven Wonders."

* * *

Madison is livid. She objects to your involvement and insists the only reason you want to participate is to keep her from becoming Supreme. She isn't wrong, but the headmistress part of you objects to telling one of your students that she isn't good enough to be Supreme, so you stay silent. Queenie is the one who shuts her up and you wonder if you've started to earn her friendship, or if she just hates Madison more than she hates you. Whatever the reason, her interruption of Madison's complaints allows you to proceed with the tests.

With each trial you pass, Madison gets more agitated. Several times, you hear the sound of her fumbling with a lighter accompanied by the suffocating smell of cigarette smoke. She truly might as well be a younger version of Fiona. You certainly never were.

Before you perform _Decensum_ , someone taps you on the shoulder. Without seeing, you know it's Misty standing behind you and a smile forms on your face as you turn around. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. You hear her swallow several times before she places her hands on your shoulders.

"You're gonna be a great leader, Miss Cordelia," she says, and there's so much conviction in her voice that you believe her.

"Can we please cut the lady-love crap and get on with it?" Madison asks. "I have a Supremacy to win and I'm not going to stay young forever."

Misty's grip tightens on your shoulder and you imagine there's a scowl on the swamp girl's face. You give her hand a reassuring pat before you take your place in the middle of the room and lower yourself to the carpet. You take a deep breath and utter the words that plunge you into Hell.

* * *

The mattress beneath you is soft. Much softer than the carpet you had been laying on seconds before. A white comforter stitched with pink flower patterns covers the bed. Books clutter the desk at your bedside and potted plants line the windowsill just above the desk. It's the bedroom from your childhood. The one you had before Fiona dumped you off on the Academy. But there's something wrong about it. Despite the sunlight shining through the window, the room is blanketed in shadow.

The white door across from your bed flings open and reveals a younger Fiona, a drink in one hand and one of your books in the other. Your heart hammers in your chest as she approaches. Her elegant features, so hard and unforgiving, have always made you wary. And those stony features, when twisted by her fury, are terrifying.

She shoves the book in your face. "You think these will help you, Delia? Do you think you'll find all of your answers in these?" Her drink sloshes over the lip of her glass and stains the white carpet. "Have these books taught you how to be anything more than incompetent?"

She sends the book flying across the room and it hits the wall with a loud thud that makes you cringe. You aren't thirteen anymore, but she still has the power to make you feel so powerless. She flicks her wrist and one of the potted plants comes to her hand. She holds it out towards you and a sneer mars her perfect features.

"Did you grow this yourself, Delia?" she asks. "Pour everything you had into it? Nurture it to make sure it would grow big and strong?"

You know you shouldn't but you nod in response anyway, unable to find your voice. The sneer transforms into a scowl. You flinch when she pulls her arm back and cry out when she throws the potted plant past you. It crashes against the wall behind the bed, covering the mattress in ceramic shards and dirt.

Your mother grabs your chin, squeezing hard as she forces you to look into her eyes.

"I put everything I had into raising you and you repay me by growing into this… this… worthless fool," she says. "I am the Supreme, yet I'm stuck with a weakling for a daughter," she hisses before she pulls her hand away. "I never deserved you."

The only warning is the narrowing of your mother's eyes before she slaps you across the face. Your cheek burns where her palm connected, but when you look back up at your mother, the disappointment you read in her expression hurts more than any blow she could have dealt.

"It's time for you to grow up, Delia," she says before leaving your bedroom. She closes the door behind her, only to reappear seconds later, her glass full and another book in hand. The scene repeats itself and you know you are truly in Hell.

Every time you try to escape through the door, she shoves you back onto the bed with the same superior power she's always held over your head. You try to remind yourself that this isn't reality—that there has to be some kind of end—but the scene just repeats and repeats and repeats and the words she hurls at you over and over become a skipping record in your head. You start to believe them.

You're worthless.

You're useless.

A disappointment.

Your mother comes through the door once more. You've lost count of how many times you've gone through this already. As she starts to speak, however, a different voice drifts in from your window. It's faint, but it's there, you're sure of it. The voice is raspy. It sounds like a song.

Slowly, you rise from your bed, your gaze fixated on the yellow light pouring through the window. You place one foot on the cluttered desk and pull yourself up, knocking books to the floor as you do so. Fiona tries to overpower you with her mind, tries to make you come back to the bed so she can continue to humiliate you, but that voice is so melodic. Its pull is stronger than any power your mother might have.

You shove your plants aside and try to lift the window. It's jammed, but after several attempts, you're able to raise it enough that you can crawl through. A breeze blows across your face and you smile at the smell of warm rain and wet earth.

You climb through, leaving your mother screaming in the bedroom.

* * *

Darkness greets you as you sit up and gasp for breath. You're almost grateful for the missing eyesight. Wisps of fear still cling to you and the thought of opening your eyes only to find yourself stuck in that bedroom again sends chills up your spine. As long as you're blind, you know you're back in the land of the living.

Familiar arms wrap around you and pull you close. You eagerly breathe in the earthy smell that Misty seems to naturally produce. Something wet hits your face and, now that the shock of coming back from Hell has worn off, you feel the way Misty's body trembles as she holds you.

"Misty?"

She tries to speak, but her voice catches in her throat, so she places a kiss on your cheek instead. A vision of her during your foray into hell flashes through your head.

She paces around your still body while the other witches watch. She kneels next to you and her hand hovers over your face for a moment, but she balls it into a fist and curses to herself before getting to her feet and walking away. When the top of the hourglass is closer to empty than full, she pulls her shawl tight against her body, gaining comfort from the object, and quietly starts to sing.

Waves of desperation barrel into your psyche. Her desperation to get you back.

The visions ends and you're still in her arms. Her cheeks are wet against yours and her body still trembles as she holds you against her.

"You scared me, you were gone so long," she says in a low voice. "I thought I lost you."

"I'm here, Misty," you say, running your hands through her hair. She holds you tighter and "I'm here, I promise."

"They should really put a time limit on this Seven Wonders thing. We're going to be here all day if we have to keep waiting on you two," Madison says. You hear the clicking of the lighter once more and the sound of the flame igniting, followed by Madison puffing on another cigarette.

You imagine she regrets her impatience to get to the next task. Divination. Something you've been practicing far longer than she has. You found Misty when she needed you. Finding the brooch that belonged to a former Supreme is even easier now that you're getting a handle on the power.

Madison, however, struggles. In the end, she fails, leaving you with one more task to accomplish. But not before she promises to expose the coven to the media. Misty surges forward, but you put out your hand and stop her from going after Madison. You want Misty by your side when you bring Zoe back.

Besides, Madison may have just given you an idea.

* * *

" _Vitalum vitalis._ "

Zoe sharply inhales as she sits up on the slab in the greenhouse. It's the last sound you hear before your strength leaves your limbs and you fall to the ground, unconscious.

When you awaken, the green and grey colors of the greenhouse come into focus. You slowly get to your feet, unsure of whether you're in reality or back in some other circle of Hell. You stare down at your hands. They're paler than you remember, but it feels so good to finally see them again. Even better is the sight of the smile on Misty's face when your eyes finally land on her.

She was supposed to die today. She was supposed to be trapped in Hell for eternity while vying for a position she didn't even want. But here she is, right in front of you, as alive as she was last night. And you can see her.

You can see her, and she's more beautiful than you remember.

She's the first one to approach you. She wraps you in a hug, unmindful of how she should be behaving, but you don't care. Becoming the new Supreme doesn't feel half as good as her tall frame pressed against yours.

She pulls back seconds later, but her hands linger on your waist. You close the distance between your bodies and capture her lips with yours. Thankfully, no visions assault you and you're able to enjoy the kiss as much as she does.

Not bad for your first act as the new Supreme.

"If this is all you're going to do as Supreme, I'm glad I'm getting out of this shithole."

Madison's voice startles you out of the kiss. You look over Misty's shoulder and see the young witch with Kyle at her side and a bulky suitcase in her hands. The blank expression on his face shows she's got him under her spell. Zoe rushes past you and flings her arms around him.

"Your pet is an idiot. The next time he tries to kill me, he's toast," she says as the boy's expression returns to normal, although it's not much different from how he looked under her mind control. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some paparazzi to find."

You don't bother to stop her. In fact, you plan to beat her at her own game.

* * *

The interview goes well, you think.

Exposing witches to the world may be a risky move, but it's a necessary one. Madison had planned to do it in the worst way possible, so you made the only decision you could. You can only hope it turns out for the best. It's possible girls will still be afraid of their powers and afraid to acknowledge them, but you like to believe you convinced some of them to come out of hiding.

The business after the interview is not as pleasant.

Auntie Myrtle, a woman who has been more of a mother to you than Fiona ever was, insists on being punished for her crimes against the council. You try to argue—they deserved to be punished for their crimes against her—but Myrtle insists it's the way things must be. You cannot abuse your power as Supreme by pardoning a friend.

"You're more than a friend," you croak, and she gives you a soft smile in response.

"I know, Dearie. I know."

During the burning, Misty stands behind you. She wants to be beside you, but you are the Supreme, and there are some things that a Supreme must do on her own, even if that means undignified crying as you condemn your surrogate mother to death.

After it's over, you wipe away the tears and force yourself to be strong. But that night and many nights after, you curl up in bed and cry into your pillow while Misty holds you from behind.

* * *

Girls are pouring into the school. You've had to purchase more houses to accommodate them all. You did this. You've started to restore the coven. Yet it isn't until after the confrontation with a not-so-dead Fiona that you realize how much power you've truly gained.

This woman had been your Hell. You had been terrified of her your whole life while constantly seeking her approval. But as she sits in that chair, wasting away to nothing, the fear is gone. And when she hugs you for the first time, the girl you had been before dies alongside your mother.

Later that evening, Misty finds you on the balcony with a thin blanket draped over your shoulders. She holds two glasses of lemonade and hands one over before she takes a seat beside you. Her arm slips over your shoulders and you curl up against her, careful not to spill your drink.

"I saw Fiona today," you say. Misty nods and patiently waits for you to continue. "She died in my arms and I think I'm supposed to be sad, and sometimes I think I might be, but I'm also relieved." You take a sip of the lemonade before you look up at Misty, who has been watching you while you speak. "Does that make me an awful daughter?"

"I don't think you could be an awful anything."

You laugh and shake your head. "I think you might be a little biased, Misty. Forget I mentioned it."

"Miss Cordelia," she says and the serious tone of her voice makes you look back up. "Fiona wasn't a very good mother to you. When you went to hell, she was the demon you had to get through to come back," she points out. "I think you're allowed to have mixed feelins on the matter."

You smile at the earnest response and lean forward to capture Misty's lips in a kiss as thanks. When you pull away, she smiles that brilliant smile of hers. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you revel in each other's company.

"No Stevie tonight?"

She shakes her head. "The cicadas are singing and I can hear your heart beatin' if I listen close enough. That's the only music I need."

"You are quite the charmer, Misty Day."

You take another sip of the lemonade and breathe in the smell of Misty Day: Wet dirt and warm rain.

You don't think you've ever loved that smell as much as you do now.


End file.
